


Debtor's Prison

by Moit



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Bad Aragorn, M/M, Prison, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Coercion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-06
Updated: 2010-07-06
Packaged: 2018-03-03 23:55:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2892764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moit/pseuds/Moit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Pre/during quest. When Frodo is unable to pay his fare at the Prancing Pony, he's thrown in debtor's prison. Strider lends a helping... hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Debtor's Prison

**Author's Note:**

  * For [claudia603](https://archiveofourown.org/users/claudia603/gifts).



> This is dedicated to claudia603 who wanted a prison!Frodo fic. I wanted this to be rougher, but I seem to have an inability to make Aragorn injure Frodo much... Have I Bingo-ed yet? lol

When Frodo got to the Prancing Pony, he was soaked through to the skin. He had only just managed to leave his cousins and Sam behind. Bree was no place for Shire hobbits.

It took two hands to pull open the heavy wooden door. It was tall and Frodo lacked leverage. He squeezed into the Inn and the door clapped shut behind him. All across the room were big Men drinking, laughing, and smoking. Not a hobbit in sight.

He made his way to the front desk, where an elderly man eyed him suspiciously.

“I believe you have a message for me,” Frodo paused, trying to swallow the thick lump in his throat, “from Gandalf.”

The Man stared at him for a moment, before leaning over to peer into Frodo's face. “I haven' seen Gandalf in a year. Jes' what are yeh tryin' teh pull, Master Hobbit?”

“I...” Frodo began, but found the air had suddenly left his lungs.

“What did yeh say yer name was?”

“Underhill,” Frodo managed quickly. “My name's Underhill.”

“Well, Mister Underhill, jus' what business do yeh have in Bree on a night like tonight inquirin' after a wizard?”

“My business is my own,” Frodo said, trying ot make his voice sound confident.

“Indeed.”

“Have you a room for the night?” Frodo asked finally, allowing the exhaustion to colour his voice.

“Aye.”

The surly keeper led him to a hobbit-sized room with a bed and a wash basin. Frodo never noticed the dark eyes that followed him across the common room.

Next morning, Frodo rose early. He spent the night fretting about Gandalf, the Ring, and the Black Riders. He had already decided to pay his fare and head East – Gandalf had mentioned Rivendell, home of the Elves. He gathered his pack, checking quickly through his things. The Ring was there, his clothing and rations, but his purse was missing. Frowning, Frodo dumped the contents of his bag on the bed. Surely he just hadn't noticed it the first time.

But as he surveyed the items on the bed, he still could not find his purse. He checked everything two, three more time. No purse. What in the world was he going to do? He threw everything back in his bag and headed downstairs to see about settling his fare without coins.

He approached the desk and the surly-faced keeper while his stomach tied itself in knots.

“Come to square up, have yeh, Underhill?” the Man asked, his eyes boring into Frodo.

“Ahh, actually, Sir,” Frodo twisted his hands together. “I seem to have misplaced my purse.”

The Man's eyes narrowed. He curved one hand over the edge of the desk. “Yeh can'no pay?”

“No, Sir,” Frodo shook his head. “But I can work my debt off. I'm good with numbers, Sir--” Frodo was cut short as the Man reached over the counter and hauled him up by the collar.

“We don' take kindly to debtors in Bree,” he growled.

Unceremoniously, he let go, causing the hobbit to fall to the floor with a squeak. He was hauled up again by the arm and dragged out the door of the Inn.

“Mathees! Randalph! I've a debtor here!” the innkeeper called to the guards at the large gate guarding Bree from the rest of Eriador.

Two burly Men appeared in short order, each taking one of Frodo's arms, dragging him further down the street.

“Wait! Where are you taking me?” Frodo cried.

But the guards paid him no mind. He was taken to the prison on the far side of the town. The guards took his satchel – the Ring with it – and threw Frodo into one of the empty cells. The metal door clanged shut and Frodo sank down on the dirty mattress in defeat.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been there, but shot up from sleep when the door to his cell banged open. He craned his neck to see what was happening.

“You've a visitor, Underhill.” the guard said gruffly.

Could it be Gandalf come to save him? But Frodo's face fell as a tall Man with a grey cloak stepped into the room. The hood hid most of his face. All Frodo could see was a shiny short hilt at the Man's hip and dirty black boots.

Frodo was barely able to say “Who--” before he found himself pressed against the wall with a hand around his throat.

“What is your business in Bree?” the Man hissed, eyes glowing behind his hood.

Frodo scrabbled uselessly at the large hand that held him. He could see stars dancing in front of his eyes and the world started to dim. Abruptly, the Man released him and Frodo fell to the ground. The man began to pace, one hand on the hilt of his sword. Frodo felt his heart seize with fear.

The man stopped, staring down at Frodo. “How do you know Gandalf?”

“He's a friend,” Frodo replied, his voice sounding small, even to his own ears.

“I don't believe you. Try again. How do you know Gandalf?”

“He's a friend,” Frodo repeated, as the tears began to course down his cheeks.

“Supposing I were to believe you, what business do you have in Bree with Gandalf, Mister Underhill?”

“He-he told me he-'d l-leave a m-message,” Frodo stammered, the Man's presence frightening him more than the prison.

“Oh, no,” the Man shook his head. “You're far too pretty to have business in Bree.” A rough glove-encased hand stroked his cheek. “You're here because you could not pay your fare at the Prancing Pony. Is that why you've come to Bree, Master Hobbit? To sell yourself in exchange for payment on your debts?”

Frodo felt the embarrassment well in his chest. “I have not! I am a respectable hobbit who has no debts!” he declared indignantly, drawing himself up to his full three-foot stature. He noted with annoyance that he only came up to the Man's belt.

“Aye. Is that how you found yourself here?” the Man's tone was wry.

Frodo pressed his lips together, unable to reply. The Man's gaze softened slightly and he placed his large hand on Frodo's shoulder. “They call me Strider in these parts. I'll not hurt you, Master Underhill. Please me, and I would be more than willing to pay your debt with Tom.”

“But I--”

“Hush.”

The Man pressed two fingertips against Frodo's lips while the other hand pulled free the lacings of his leggings. His cock sprang forward, half-hard, and already much larger than Frodo's. Frodo had never seen one other than his own and the sight made his head reel back out of reflex, even while the scent of it tightened things low in his body.

“No need to play coy,” Strider said, placing a hand against the back of Frodo's head.

Unable to resist and unsure what Strider might do if he did, Frodo leant forward and licked the tip experimentally. Strider groaned low and tightened his grip in Frodo's hair. The taste in Frodo's mouth was not completely unpleasant, but it was not the worst thing he had ever tasted, either. At Strider's urging, Frodo sucked the spongy head into his mouth. He ran his tongue experimentally around the ridge just before the shaft. Strider gave another groan and shifted the hand in Frodo's curls so he could run the pad of his thumb over the tip of one pointed ear.

Frodo shifted his weight, twisting his hands in the fabric of his weskit. Not that he had much experience, but it always heated him up whenever someone touched his ears. He couldn't help the hum of appreciation that bubbled out of his throat. Strider must have liked that too, because he brought his other hand up to cup Frodo's other ear, raking his thumb over that pointed tip as well. Frodo fought to keep his knees from buckling.

With no other options, Frodo awkwardly placed his hands on Strider's hips, which inadvertently caused the Man to thrust himself deeper. Frodo pulled back, choking as tears filled his eyes, but the Man paid no notice. He kept prodding the back of Frodo's throat with the tip of his erection. The feeling of gagging and the tears filling his eyes took away all the pleasure Frodo had been feeling by having his ears rubbed.

Suddenly, the Man gripped his ears hard enough to hurt and thrust deep enough to cut off Frodo's airway. The hobbit's mouth was suddenly flooded with a foul bitter liquid that made him cough and sputter and choke as Strider withdrew. As the Man tied his leggings, Frodo fell to his hands and knees and wretched until he dry-heaved on the dirt floor of the cell.

“You'll have to learn to like that if you want to make it in this town, little one,” Strider said sardonically.

Frodo looked up with red-rimmed eyes, bile and semen clinging to the corner of his mouth. The Man snorted and left the cell.

Moments later, the guard returned with Frodo's sachel. “On your feet, Underhill. You're free to go.”

Frodo stumbled to his feet, knees shaky and unsure.

 

After countless days of weary travel, and several near-misses with the Black Riders, Frodo somehow made it to the edge of Rivendell. Exhausted and hungry, Frodo collapsed at the feet of several Elvin guards.

He woke up some time later and found Gandalf sitting at his bedside.

“So good to see you back in the land of the living, lad. I was starting to worry you wouldn't make it here in one piece, but hobbits are made of stronger stuff, yes? When you feel well enough to face the day, the Lord Elrond would like you to join us for a council meeting so that we might decide what should be done with that ring you carry.”

The Ring!

Frodo's hand flew to his chest – and found the Ring had been placed on a chain around his neck. But when he looked up, he saw that Gandalf had already gone. Heart pounding with trepidation, he gingerly pulled himself out of bed and walked out the open doorway.

The Elf guarding his door nodded at him. “This way, Master Baggins.”

Frodo followed the Elf to a room full of Elves, Men, and Dwarves. Gandalf was sitting next to an Elf Frodo could only assume was the Master Elrond.

“Welcome to my home, Frodo Baggins of the Shire. Allow me to introduce you to my companions.” He named the individuals seated around him, one by one. Finally, “And this is Strider, a Ranger from the North.”

Frodo's eyes fell upon the Man who had simultaneously liberated him and violated him in Bree.

Strider inclined his head, grey eyes boring into Frodo's. “It is a pleasure, Frodo Baggins.”

“Indeed,” Frodo replied, sinking down into a chair.


End file.
